


Drink

by etherina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gift Fic, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, also scheming petyr, cinnamon petyr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9773960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherina/pseuds/etherina
Summary: “Now, sweetling, didn’t I tell you not to drink anything more tonight? You’ve had enough.” An amused voice spoke beside her, husky and yet with a certain softness to it. Sansa looked up and saw a man in his late thirties perhaps, smiling widely. But the smile did not reach his forest-green eyes, no, those were focused on Sansa with not a single hint of amusement in them. They were cold, hard and assessing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gatinha15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gatinha15/gifts).



> Birthday fic for my wonderful friend Gati! I love you so much, I hope you have a great day and that you enjoy this little work<333
> 
> Warnings for mentions of trauma.

“Wow, fancy seeing you here.” A voice spoke close to her ear. Sansa swung around on the barstool and was met with a pair of piercing green eyes and a sickly cruel smile. She could feel something cold slithering down her spine.

“Joffrey.” She greeted, forcing a smile in return. It would do her no good to be rude. She knew how his temper was before and she was certain it hadn’t changed since.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Three months, right?” He asked and leaned forward, his breath reeking of alcohol. She felt like gagging.

“Yeah. Three months.” She said and shifted slightly away from him. _And I wouldn’t mind if it was three more months- or years- or forever._

“What have you been up to?” He asked and waved to the bartender who immediately started making them both drinks. _Shit. He owns this place too? I thought he only had establishments in King’s Landing…_

“Oh, you know… traveling.” She said but it didn’t look like he was really listening. His eyes were glued onto her cleavage, not that she showed much of it. Her black dress was quite modest compared to what other girls wore in the club. The bodice was nicely snug, the neckline was only about two inches below her collarbone, and the skirt flowed in soft waves down to her knees. It wasn’t a typical party dress but she wasn’t much of a party girl either. She had just gone here for a quick drink and some alone-time. Now that she thought about it, alone-time wouldn’t be quite so easily achieved by being a woman, alone, in a club.

The bartender put down two glasses in front of them, one with what looked like simple beer and one a gin and tonic. Joffrey licked his thin lips and finally stopped staring at her chest, instead dragging his eyes to the drinks and quickly taking the beer. He gulped down half of it and placed it on the bar with a heavy hand. His eyes were a little unfocused and Sansa was inwardly praying that he would faint. But he didn’t.

“Drink.” He encouraged enthusiastically and she opened her mouth to decline, but he quickly continued. “I don’t like when ungrateful sluts refuse me.” It was a threat and she knew it.

With a trembling hand she wrapped her slender fingers around the cool glass and brought it slowly to her mouth. She didn’t fail to notice the slight fizzing in her drink. Gin and tonic wasn’t supposed to look like that. It was clear that the bartender had slipped her something, on Joffrey’s command of course.

She cursed herself for walking into this club in the first place. She should’ve done background checks, made sure that the owner wasn’t a fucking Lannister, but she had foolishly thought she would be safe here in the Eyrie. Why would Joffrey ever come here?

_“Drink.”_ Joffrey repeated, his voice turning into a low command. She hadn’t even noticed that she had paused. With another forced smile, she pressed her lips against the edge of the glass, tilting upwards to let the liquid trickle down her throat. She couldn’t refuse him. He would hurt her far more if she did.

But before she could take the first sip, a hand shot out between them, taking the glass from her gently but swiftly. Sansa almost screamed when she felt another hand coming to rest against the small of her back but she held her tongue. It was easy to learn that around Joffrey.

“Now, sweetling, didn’t I tell you not to drink anything more tonight? You’ve had enough.” An amused voice spoke beside her, husky and yet with a certain softness to it. Sansa looked up and saw a man in his late thirties perhaps, smiling widely. But the smile did not reach his forest-green eyes, no, those were focused on Sansa with not a single hint of amusement in them. They were cold, hard and assessing.

“What the fuck? Who do you think you are?” Joffrey suddenly yelled, making Sansa jump visibly. The hand that rested on her back then pressed tighter against her, slowly sliding to come around her waist. She was pulled gently to the side, against the man’s chest.

“I’m her husband. And who may you be?” The man beside her spoke confidently and Sansa stiffened. _My husband? Has he confused me with someone else?_ It then occurred to her that the man might simply be making up a story to make Joffrey back off. Sansa wasn’t sure if she should play along or not. How did she know she could trust this man? Maybe he only wanted to take her for himself. She knew that men were not like the knights in the songs.

But this man was, in this case, the lesser of two evils. She would much rather go with him than let Joffrey dig his claws into her again. _Anything is better than Joffrey._

“I’m Joffrey Lannister and if you don’t get out of here now, I’ll have your head on a spike!” He yelled and stood up so quickly that the barstool tipped over and hit the floor with a bang. But despite Joffrey’s anger, the man simply chuckled.

“Head on a spike? A role-player, are you? It’s good to see the young generation have such imagination.” The man said and cocked his head to the side as he spoke, the smile turning into a satisfied smirk as Joffrey’s face turned red with anger. The man then turned to Sansa and pressed a dry kiss affectionately against her temple, as if they were in fact married.  
“Now, we ought to leave the young boy to his own vices. Ought we not, sweetling?” He spoke softly but loud enough to make sure Joffrey heard them. Joffrey couldn’t seem to muster a response, not even a countering insult.

“Have a nice evening.” The man said to the Lannister, gave a curt nod, and he helped Sansa off the barstool and out of the club with an easy tug around her waist. No one stopped them. Joffrey had not even managed to speak a word yet. He was not used to anyone talking back to him, much less stealing his prize.

Once outside, Sansa realized how empty the street was at this time. It was only 11:30 but the only other person she saw was a drunk man stumbling into the club they had just exited. Panic welled up inside of her as she realized that the man who had just been her hero might now be the villain.

He did not speak a word, only started walking with her held in a strong grip against his side. Should she scream? Would anyone hear her? _Would anyone care?_

She started to pull away from him, her hands pressing against his ribs, trying to make his grip around her waist slip, but he only tightened his hold. She pressed harder, almost beating him, and her breathing became rapid with fear. Why she wasn’t fighting more, she didn’t know. She could claw at his face, kick him with her heels, smack her elbow into his nose, but she didn’t. She was fighting him, yes, but so meekly that it didn’t seem to have any effect at all.

She pressed against his ribs again and let out a small whimper when he suddenly turned to face her, his hands firmly gripping her shoulders. He stared at her, cold and assessing like before, but they softened after a short while. “I won’t hurt you, sweetling.”

Despite the fact that their _husband-and-wife_ act was over, he called her _sweetling_ again. She did not know what to think about that.

“I’m leading you to the inner city. There are people there, and stores that are open. Can you not hear the sounds?” He asked in a surprisingly gentle tone. Now that he mentioned it, she found that she _could_ hear sounds; clacking of shoes against pavement, distant murmurs of people conversing, a laugh here and there. Yes, there were people that way.

The man seemed to notice her realization because he loosened his grip on her and slowly let his hand slide down to hold onto her elbow. “There is nothing to fear now.” He said and started to lead her toward the noise. She let him.

She didn’t register much of what was going on around her as they walked. She was far too focused on the gentle hand warming the skin of her arm. The hand no longer made her tense with fear, instead it brought a sense of comfort to her. It was, perhaps, not very wise to trust this man even though he had assured her she was safe, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about this man that soothed her. Perhaps it was his voice. Perhaps it was the softening of his deep green eyes, or the way his light touch made her skin tingle. _Gods, you’ve only just met him!_ She scolded herself but she didn’t really listen.

They walked into a café, the chiming of the little bell by the door breaking her out of her hypnotizing thoughts. She saw down in one of the booths by the window and the man eased into the seat opposite her. “Care for something to eat?” He asked.

She should probably decline. It would be the polite thing to do, wouldn’t it? He had wasted enough time on her this night. But as his eyes bore into hers, meaningful and warm, she found that she couldn’t refuse him. Besides, he looked well-off. A silver watch was around his wrist, a Rolex if she wasn’t mistaken, and his white button up shirt was made of some fine material she couldn’t identify. All she knew was that it was very smooth; she had noticed that on their way here, even if she had been busy with pushing him away from her at the time.

“Something light, please. I have much of an appetite after…” Her voice drifted off and she fought a shudder. She could still smell Joffrey’s horrible alcoholic breath.

“Of course.” He waved over a waitress. “Two cups of tea and some biscuits, please.”

Sansa looked out the window, noticing the deep purple hue of the sky. It was late august, which was why the café was even being open at this time. She glanced around, carefully observing the other customers. A couple sat together in a corner, whispering closely to each other as they sipped their coffee.  A group of young women were close by the wall, sharing a large chocolate cake amongst each other; maybe it was someone’s birthday. Two men sat at the table beside the girls, holding hands while sharing earphones, two empty platters covered in crumbs in front of them.

The people filled the little café with a sweet bustling noise. Not too loud to be overwhelming and not too quiet to seem abandoned. The man had chosen a great place.

“What’s your name?” She found herself asking, deciding that she didn’t want to keep calling him _“the man”_ when referring to him in her head.

“Petyr. “ He answered in a politely and smirked. “You?”

“Sansa.” She answered and let her lips curl up into a smirk of her own. The waitress returned to their table and set down two teacups filled and a platter of biscuits. Sansa did not know what kind.

“You must forgive me,” Petyr said and took a sip of tea, “that I did not know my own wife’s name until just now.”

Sansa let out a light laugh. It was bright and carefree. She liked the feeling it gave her. “Well, I didn’t know my husband’s name either so I suppose we’re even.” She jested back.

Petyr chuckled, a low and rumbly sound deep from his chest, and dunked half a biscuit into his tea before quickly eating it, preventing anything to drip on his expensive-looking shirt.  Sansa did the same. The biscuit melted in her mouth and the tea warmed her body from the inside, not with a burning heat but with a nice warmth, like having a kitten snuggled up against you while you rest by a lit fire under a pile of blankets.

After a short while of silence, Sansa spoke. “Why did you say that we were married?”

Petyr’s eyebrow rose and a strange mixture of sadness and amusement shone in his eyes. “It served as a good distraction, did it not?”

“Yes, but he’ll probably be trying to figure out who you are once he’s out of shock. You know who he is, don’t you?”

“I do, yes. It was quite difficult to tune out his obnoxiously drunken voice as he introduced himself.” Petyr scoffed, his lip curling into a sneer as he talked about Joffrey. Sansa almost smiled at that.

“Then you know he’s powerful. His family is one of the most influential and richest in the country. You shouldn’t have insulted him.” She warned, her brows knitting together in concern for Petyr. For what she knew, he was no one in the high-class society. What was he to the Lannisters?

“Oh believe me, I know about his family. How could I not?” He gulped down the last of his tea and placed the empty cup back on the table, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the surface with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Then why? Why would you risk insulting him like that?” Sansa asked, confused.

Petyr then smirked smugly, looking like he held some big secret. And he did. “The Lannisters are bankrupt. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are currently selling off their estates. Their shares are rapidly decreasing this very minute.”

Sansa only stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. How could that be possible? The Lannisters were filthy rich, dominating the market of high end establishments. How could they be bankrupt? “Why isn’t that public?” She asked skeptically.

Petyr chuckled and cocked his head to the side.

They have kept their decline in wealth hidden for many years. Let’s just say that just a few hours ago, someone might have accidently leaked the info.” He husked in a low tone and Sansa found herself leaning closer to him as he spoke, her teacup held tightly in both her hands.

“You? Do you mean _you_ leaked it?” She asked in astonishment and Petyr grinned wider than the Cheshire cat.

“Indeed.”

Sansa couldn’t help herself. She started laughing. She laughed so hard her stomach was hurting. Her hands covered her mouth as she tried to stop her outburst but it was in vain. She had never before been so delighted to hear of someone’s downfall.

“So you’re telling me that Joffrey,“ she gasped out in between a fitful of giggly breaths, “Joffrey is out there, _partying,_ thinking he’s the king of the world, unaware that he and his family are totally _screwed?!”_

“Indeed.” Petyr simply repeated, chuckling with her. Although he seemed mostly amused by her.

In a sudden burst of giddy emotion, she rounded the small table and threw her arms around him. She was embracing the man who she had only met half an hour ago in a crushingly loving hug. It was an absurd situation but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, her breath puffing against the skin of his neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for someone to fuck them over.”

She stayed like that, pressed against this stranger, for surely a minute longer before she suddenly became hyper-aware of how inappropriate this was. She gently started to ease away but found that a slender pair of arms held her in place. He was hugging her back and she hadn’t even noticed. She blushed profusely. But now that she had noticed, there was no escaping the pleasant shiver his touch sent down her spine. She liked being held like this. Being held by him.

_Really, Sansa?_ She scolded herself. _You really are a mess tonight._

“You’re quite welcome.” She heard Petyr breathe out and almost felt his arms tightening for a second before he released her, but she probably imagined that.

Her blush had gone down by now, but when she met his eyes again it swiftly returned. She shifted away from him a fraction, only enough to remain proper, and started fidgeting with the hem of her dress. His deep gaze flicked down to her fingers and then up to her eyes again, almost too quickly for her to notice.

“I must ask, why do you hold such distain for the Lannisters?” He regarded her carefully, examining her reaction.

Her sudden embrace was quickly forgotten by this question and she looked down in her lap. “Joffrey was my boyfriend once. Two years ago.” She sighed. “I don’t know how much you heard in the club but he’s quite… controlling.”

She heard Petyr release a slow breath and she knew he understood. Her relationship with Joffrey had been far from a healthy one. “Do you not have a family to help you out? To keep him away from you?”

Sansa shook her head sadly. “No.”

“They’re still alive of course.” she quickly clarified, realizing what it sounded like. “But Joffrey just wouldn’t let me visit them. I moved to King’s Landing to live with him but my parents and siblings still live in Winterfell.  All my phone calls to them were intercepted too so I couldn’t speak to them freely.”

She looked up at Petyr again and felt a sudden wave of relief when she found no sign of pity in his eyes. He was merely listening to her, trying to understand. “What happened? You seem to be free of him now, in some ways.” He asked.

“He found another pretty thing to possess.” She sighed and dropped her gaze down to her lap again. “He’s with Margaery Tyrell now. They’re quite an item. Joffrey never went very public with me, which I’m glad for, but the newspapers adore Margaery and him together. I’m guessing he treats her well but I can’t be sure. I know that bruises can be hidden and smiles can be faked.”

Petyr nodded solemnly.

“When he called it off with me, I left King’s Landing as quickly as I could but I couldn’t go back to Winterfell. I was too ashamed. I had assured my family that Joffrey was a nice guy and it would be so embarrassing to admit how wrong I was.”

“So that’s why I want the Lannisters fall into ruin. They all knew what Joffrey did to me but none of them stopped it. They hid it, looked the other way, and pretended nothing was amiss. It was so inhumane; I cannot bring myself to think of them as anything but monsters.”

It was silent for a while. The group of girls in the café had left, as had the two men. Only the couple in the corner remained but they seemed to be getting ready to leave soon too. The bustling sound had died down as people had left, but Sansa’s voice was so hushed that no one could eavesdrop on her and Petyr anyway.

“Have you talked to anyone about this?” Petyr suddenly asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she relaxed. She didn’t know why that was.

“No.” She said and looked up at him. His eyes were deep enough to drown in. “Just you.” She smiled lightly.

His mouth curled up in a small smile as well. It was a smile of understanding. Sansa did not know how he seemed to understand, only that he did _. Perhaps he’s gone through something horrible too._

“I’m glad you told me. It’s good to talk to someone.” His hand slid from her shoulder and caressed her hair on the way down before he retreated.

“Now,” he said while rising from his seat, “shall we go witness your enemies’ downfall?”

Sansa grasped his outstretched hand gingerly and he helped her up. “How are we supposed to witness it?” she asked, confused.

“It should be on the news by now.” He said and waved a hand dismissively when Sansa was reaching into her small bag to pay for the tea. “I’ll pay, don’t worry about it.”

Sansa had a feeling he wouldn’t give in, set on being chivalrous as he was, so she closed her bag again. “But where can we watch the news?”

“In a club, or bar more precisely.” He said and placed the money and tip on the table.  Sansa stiffened momentarily at the word _club_. He noticed, of course. “No, no, no. I won’t take you back to _that_ place, don’t worry. I’ll take you to my own club, if you wish to go.”

“You own a club?” She exclaimed and took hold of his offered elbow. It felt natural to be walking beside him as they exited the café.

“It’s newly opened. You see, I’ve planned for this downfall for quite some time now. When the Lannister establishments shut down, where will all the people go? To me. I have strategically placed my own clubs near theirs so that people’s routines won’t change. It’s quite a scheme.” He smirked and Sansa grinned back at him. That really _was_ clever.

She simply followed him, with no fear this time.

Eventually they arrived outside a large double door with a bright neon sign over it; bright curved letters spelled out “ _the Mockingbird”._ Sansa looked questioningly at Petyr, wondering why he had picked that as the name for his club, but he only shrugged in response to her expression, a smirk tugging his lips.

He nodded to the bouncer and they were quickly let inside. Inside, music boomed with a steady rhythm and the crowd on the dance floor moved carelessly to the beat. Neon lights spun around the dark room, illuminating the space with bright blue and green colors.

A bar was to the left, its edge rimmed with glowing stripes, and Sansa heard the loud cheer as the bartender finished off some cool trick. She turned to Petyr.

“I don’t see a TV!” She shouted, making sure he heard her over the loud noise. It didn’t bother her much though. She quite liked the energy of the club.

“Follow me!” Petyr shouted back, tugging her with him. She had never released his arm.

He led her around the crowd of people with expertise, managing to avoid touching any of them, and headed toward a thick curtain by the corner of the room. A bouncer was placed in front of it but he let both her and Petyr pass, just like the one outside.

The curtain fell closed behind them and the music was instantly dulled. Not enough for it to be anywhere near quiet, but significantly less loud. In this new room, which Sansa assumed to be the VIP section, booths lined the left wall and a bar was set against the right. In the middle was a pool table and five men stood around it, laughing loudly when one of them missed the white ball completely.

The room was far less flashy than the other part of the club. There were no colorful party lights swirling around. Instead, the lights were a dimmed white, making the space look very clean, and the furniture was a classy mix of black and cream colors. The bar was made of sleek mahogany wood and seemed to only have an array of very expensive alcohols, not the cheap stuff like in the other room. It was now no question that this was the VIP section.

Petyr led her to one of the empty booths, sat down beside her, and then gestured to the bartender who picked up a remote and aimed it over her shoulder, against the wall behind the bar. A painting that hung there suddenly twisted, flipping itself into the wall and a large flat screen was revealed. Sansa openly gaped.

“How the hell did you afford this? I mean, I didn’t think you were poor but this is insane!” She exclaimed and Petyr chuckled.

“Would you believe me if I said I won the lottery?”

Sansa laughed. “No.”

“I suppose I’ll come up with another lie then, but that will take a while.” He jested and Sansa laughed again. His humor was strange but not unpleasant in the slightest.

The news suddenly started on the TV and Sansa’s attention was turned to it.

“… _After the raid, Cersei, Jaime and Tywin Lannister were all arrested for drug possession and dealing. Not only that, but they are also charged with several cases of fraud and blackmail. Their stocks continue to decline rapidly as more and more secrets are revealed. None of us had expected this major fall for one of the most influential families in the country…”_

Sansa grinned widely. There was no way the Lannisters would come back from this. They had no money for good lawyers and the charges were piling up. This was better than what she had expected.

“I take it you’re pleased.” Petyr said and smiled. This was a real smile, Sansa noticed. It reached his eyes, making them glitter with mirth.

“Oh yes, far more than that in fact! I’m so happy I could kiss you!” She exclaimed, soon realizing what she had said. She felt heat rising to her cheeks and she smiled sheepishly at his surprised expression. _Shit. Now he thinks I’m all weird. Who actually says that? ‘I could kiss you’. Stupid._

“Why don’t you?” Petyr said in a low husky voice. Sansa wasn’t sure she even heard him right.

“What?”

“I said, why don’t you?” He shifted closer, his breath smelling of mint. Had he been chewing a gum after the tea? She couldn’t recall. Having him so close to her was a distraction. She couldn’t think straight.

“I shouldn’t.. I…” She heard herself say, even as she leaned closer. One of his hands was pressed to the small of her back, sending warm tingles up her spine, and the other went up to cup her cheek gently. His lightly calloused fingers were deliciously rough against her smooth skin.

“I definitely shouldn’t…” She whispered, her eyes drifting shut right before his lips claimed hers. They were soft, caressing her in a way she had never felt before. The musky scent of his skin filled her nostrils and she felt intoxicated by it.

She pressed closer, her hands steady on his shoulders before drifting around to the back of his neck involuntarily. Her fingers combed through his hair, making him groan into her mouth. She gasped as his tongue swiped along her swollen lips, begging entry. She allowed it.

He tasted sweet but the mint was still evident from his breath. It tasted like pure bliss to Sansa. His hands moved around her, wrapping her slender body into a strong embrace. She didn’t feel trapped like she had expected to. But still, she feared that if she kissed him any longer, she would do something she wasn’t ready for yet. She needed time to think this through and now she couldn’t think at all. She was drunk on him. Oh, she wanted to feel him. But no. Not like this.

She pressed him away from her and in an instant, he retreated, eyes raving over her with what looked like concern. His hair was tousled and his breathing uneven. “I’m sorry, I went too far. I shouldn’t have let you-“

He began but she quickly cut him off.

“No. I liked it, truly. I liked it a lot.” She blushed furiously and tucked some of her copper hair behind her ear. Her lips felt swollen and warm. “I just didn’t want to do anything more, you know?”

Petyr nodded, a small smile lighting up his face. “I understand. We’re practically strangers. It’s good of you to be cautious.”

“I feel stupid.” She frowned and looked down in her lap. “I mean, it’s not uncommon that strangers do more than just kiss. One night stands are a regular occurrence but I just can’t do it.” She sighed. “I wish I was more like others.”

He gently grabbed her chin, making her look up at him. “You shouldn’t feel pressured by what others do. That never leads to something good.” His thumb caressed her jaw, her cheek, her swollen lip. “I happen to think that you’re perfect like you are. You shouldn’t want to be like others.”

Sansa smiled, tears filling her eyes but not falling. No one had ever said that to her before. It meant more than she could express.

Petyr studied her thoroughly before smirking teasingly. “But don’t hold me to that. I might change my mind after I get to know you.”

Sansa giggled and took his hand away from her face, placed it in her lap and toyed with his slender fingers. His hands were exceptionally beautiful.

“You want to learn more about me, hmm?” She said playfully and looked up at him through her lashes. He smirked wider.

“Well, weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.” He shrugged. “I’ll give you a chance.”

Sansa giggled and slapped his arm lightly, faking anger. She was well aware that he was only jesting. “Shut up!”

“Besides,” Petyr said with a chuckle, “you’re really a terrible kisser. I’m afraid you need more practice.”

Sansa felt a blush creeping up again. “Oh?”

“Indeed. I hope that under my tutelage, you’ll soon be an expert on all kinds of kisses.” He leaned closer to her, his hand returning to hold her chin in place. His eyelids drooped as his gaze studied her features.

“There’s different kinds?” Sansa asked, feeling breathless.

“Oh yes, more than you could imagine.” He placed a light kiss on her mouth and Sansa leaned into it. All too soon he pulled away. She whimpered a little, his lips on hers was enough to start the fire that had burned in her as they last kissed.

He chuckled. “No more tonight, sweetling. I don’t want to pressure you.”

Sansa nodded, knowing it was for the best. She had told him she didn’t want to do anything more and he made sure no more happened. She was thankful for that.

“Will you meet me tomorrow?” He asked. “For dinner, at 8?”

Sansa grinned. “I’d love to.”

Petyr helped her stand, grinning back at her. “Good. We’ll meet here then.” He reached down and took hold of her hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“I’ll get you a cab home.” He said and started to lead her out from the club.

Sansa was, despite how the evening had started, very pleased with the events of the night. Life had been cruel with her the recent years and now she was finally feeling like it was turning back around. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's it! 
> 
> I might do a second chapter set a few years in the future just to get some smut in there, lmao. (lack of smut is a severe crime you know, I gotta fix that) but the backstory didn't quite allow that to happen right now. (damnit, I created the backstory. Why did I make this harder for myself, lmfao)
> 
> Again, happy birthday Gati! I love you so much. Thank you for being such a wonderful reader and an amazing friend<3


End file.
